Spelling Counts
by manitilde
Summary: 30 Day 'Drabble' Challenge
1. Look

It started with a look.

Not one of longing or understanding or kinship. It was a look borne by curiosity. It was borne from a place that wondered and puzzled and was just a tiny bit sad. It was a look that said 'who is this girl and why does she hide?'

Willow had given up on the so-called Wiccan group after that day. The only one who held any promise was the shy blonde who tried to melt into the carpeting which wasn't very encouraging at all. So Willow was resigned to fall back into what she did best: read and experiment and hope she didn't blow up the chem lab…again.

In a way she was almost glad for the arrival of the Gentlemen. Not the turn everyone mute, cut out their hearts, and generally creep the bejeebus out of people that they did, but for the group Scoobyage. The being useful and working together to save the day. Granted, her usefulness went only so far as she could research and the keyword search for "fairytale" that she'd set up to scour the net only ensured that she would never watch another Disney movie without shuddering again.

The sudden knocking on the door surprised her. It sounded violent and frantic in the otherwise silence of the last few days. Curiosity overrun caution, a dangerous happening in a town like Sunnydale, and Willow had opened the door. And then there was the collision, the look of surprise and terror, the recognition of the monster, and the fierce instinctual protectiveness Willow felt for the girl (and the girl for her).

Only after, collapsed on the laundry room floor, hands clasped together, was there a look of understanding and kinship and fear.

(The longing came later, powerfully and without warning.)


	2. Snowflake

The first thing Tara does when she moves into her new dorm room is pull the heavy, uncomfortable chair to the window. She drapes a plain white blanket over it in a vain attempt to soften the industrial styled furniture.

If anyone were to come to Tara's room, nine times out of ten she would be sitting in that chair reading, doing homework, or simply staring out the window.

If anyone were to come to Tara's room.

After returning to her room after the incident in the laundry room, Tara automatically goes to sit by the window. It's late, but she's still wired. She shrugs off her sweater and over shirt and lays them over the arm of the chair. They had cranked up the heat in the dorm as soon as the temperature dropped below sixty. Looking out the window, Tara finds it hard to believe it was already December.

_The solstice is in two weeks,_ she muses, tracing patterns on the window pane.

To Tara, December had meant log fires, cookies, cider, and sweaters. It had meant sneaking away with her mother with candles to pay homage to her gods. It had meant the one day when Donny would try to behave himself as if to offset a year of misdeeds. Mostly it had meant snow.

When she was six, her mother had taken her out one day with construction paper and a magnifying glass. They had spent an hours catching snowflakes and comparing their shapes under magnification. Twenty minutes in, Tara had decided that she was going to find matches for all the ones she had collected.

"That's not going to work, sweetheart," her mother had laughed, pulling Tara into her lap as she sat in the snow.

"But w-why? They should all h-have friends and be h-h-happy," Tara said, ignoring how hard "h"s were. At least Donny wasn't there to make fun of her for it.

"Well, snowflakes are like people. No two are exactly the same. They are all different and special," her mother said, brushing snow out of Tara's bangs, "But even though they are all different, they can come together to make a snow ball or a snow man."

Even at age six, Tara had felt like her mother was talking about more than just snowflakes even if she hadn't known what.

At nineteen, she is still trying to figure it out.


	3. Silver

The chem lab was becoming a very familiar place for Willow. She'd thought that she would never want to come back here after her failed curse…after Oz and…no, best not to think about it. Besides, she still had class to go to every Tuesday and Thursday and the thought of Willow Rosenberg missing class (barring an apocalypse) was unthinkable and, really, where else was she going to find a suitable place to experiment with spells on campus at three in the morning.

Not that she should have been there at three in the morning, but the lock was so easy to pick with a spell, and she always put everything back how she found it, so even if she was _technically _trespassing it was better than sitting in her room alone all night.

You'd think that with fifteen years of practice, she'd be used to it by now.

No, that wasn't fair. She wasn't alone. Buffy was just busy what with the slaying and the studying and the Riley. So, no, Willow wasn't alone. Just lonely.

Shaking her head to try and clear it of unhelpful thoughts, Willow placed a hand on the book she had laid out on the lab table. Fingers splayed, she let them hover momentarily over the words she had already memorized. It was a new spell she had come across a couple of days ago that would allow her to charm an object into a sort of homing beckon. Given the nature of her extracurricular activities and her best friend's surprisingly terrible sense of direction, she thought that it would be a valued asset.

If she could only figure out how to do it.

Pulling the stopper out of a bottle of mercury, Willow thought about the similarities between magic and science. As far as she could tell they both followed the first law of thermodynamics – the conservation of energy. It could not be created or destroyed. It could change form, it could transfer, it could reconstruct, but it there would always be the same amount in a system; never more, never less.

Pouring the metal over the rest of the ingredients, Willow began to chant. Latin words tripped clumsily over her tongue as she attempted to invoke the gods for a blessing. Looking down she watched the silver liquid pool together at the bottom of the mortar, the crushed rose hips pushing themselves to the top.

Mercury. Quicksilver. Element 80. Boiling point 356.73 C.

But it was also Hermes and messenger and inventor of the lyre.

Willow still found it a little dizzying that all the names in her old books and her favorite stories were real. That you could commune with Janus for change or invoke Osiris and communicate with the underworld. She thought it would be harder for her scientific mind to wrap her head around the existence of vampires and werewolves and fairy tale monsters that were even more terrifying than the brothers Grimm had led her to believe (when Giles had told her that the Grimm brothers had actually had ties to the Council, she had been more than a little excited and re-read her copy of complete works and had given herself nightmares for a week), but all it had meant was that there was more for her to learn. More for her to figure out and puzzle and make herself more useful to Buffy and the world at large. Even if no one knew.

Willow dipped the chain of an old necklace into the mixture only to frown in disappointment. If the spell had been successful the gold chain should have heated up slightly, but instead all Willow had was a dissolving chain and a bowl of mercury.

Sighing in frustration, Willow cleaned up her mess and packed up. As she was putting the spell book away in her bag, as small post-it note fluttered to the ground. Willow bent down to pick it up and was confused momentarily by the unfamiliar handwriting, but brightened considerably when she realized the looping cursive spelled out a name and dorm number.

Walking back to Stevenson, Willow decided that for her next experiment she would need a partner and Tara Maclay of 112 Richmond Hall would be perfect for the job.


	4. Flame

Technically the fairy lights, candles, and incense that Tara liked to burn were prohibited in the dorm. The little red handbook that she had been given on move-in day had listed them clearly as fire hazards along with the seemingly innocuous toaster. Tara didn't feel too bad about breaking the rules, though. She was always careful and it was these little things that went a long way in making the room feel like home.

Not the house she grew up in, of course, but a place where she could start a new life.

Her life.

Dropping the burnt match into a bowl of water, Tara moved to crack open the window. Although the room had no (operational) smoke detector to give her away, less smoke in the hall way meant less awkward questions from her neighbors. It had taken her nearly a week to convince the brunette next door that she would not appreciate her recipe for brownies nearly as much as she had hoped.

A sudden noise at the door caused her to jump slightly. As Tara walked towards the door she took one last look around her room. It was tidy enough, but she was still a little nervous about sharing her space with another person. Suddenly she was struck with several frantic insecure thoughts that her room would seem too dark, too depressed, too …different.

Without realizing it, Tara had reached the door and opened it to reveal a bubbly, if twitchy, Willow.

"Hey, Tara. Cool room. I'm glad you wanted to get together because, I mean, I've been wanting to practice with another witch who wasn't a rat for a while now and you seem really nice, too, so I think we'll be friends and not just spell buddies – unless you just want to be spell buddies – and I'm sorry that I'm talking so much, but I had a little too much coffee today and it kinda makes me jumpy and I'm actually trying to stop now…"

For a moment all Tara could do was stare at the redhead. She was somewhat surprised that Willow had managed to say so much without taking a breath when she knew that it would take her a considerably longer time to say even half as much. Realizing that she was still staring, Tara took a breath and said, "Hi, Willow."

She took a step back and let the other girl in the room. She could see a small, proud smile on Willow's face, but before she could question it, the redhead had started talking again.

"So, what do you want to do? I've been looking up spells and things since I called, but I wasn't sure what kinds of things you're used to," Willow said as she pulled a book out of her shoulder bag and sat on the edge of Tara's bed, "I know you said you've been practicing pretty much your whole life, so I guess you should probably take the lead for a while."

"Um…I, uh, u-usually just do cleansing ri-rituals and some elemental w-work," Tara said as she closed the door. She fidgeted with her fingers for a second before crossing the room to pick up a book from her desk. An orange post-it peaked out from near the center of the volume where Tara had marked a potentially interesting spell. "I'm not r-really a leader…but there is this this one spell that w-w-we could try. If you want."

Tara looked up to see Willow grinning brightly on her bed. The tea lights on her nightstand cast a halo around the girl's red hair. Tara nearly gasped at the sight.

"Yeah, sure! That sounds great," Willow nodded, not noticing Tara's reaction, "Elemental spells and I have had a few difficulties, but I think that I could do it now with you here, Tara. We make a pretty good team."

Willow grinned again and Tara could only nod in agreement.


	5. Outside

Tara and Willow were seated cross-legged on the floor at the foot of Tara's bed. They sat facing each other, a single candle flickering between them. The sounds that could be heard in the small room were the deep breaths of its occupants, the hiss of the burning wick, and the dim hum of students milling about outside in the hall.

Meditating had never been high on Willow's list of magic-y things to learn. She had tried to do it on her own a few times junior year, the books Jenny had recommended spread open around her on the floor of her childhood bedroom. Her parents had gone somewhere (San Francisco, Chicago, Pennsylvania– somewhere that was else) so the house was quiet except for the slight buzz of her laptop fan and her drapes shifting in the slight breeze.

Eyes closed, Willow tried to recall the passage she had just read. The book had stressed the importance of relaxation, of clearing one's mind and creating a peaceful space. She had settled down on the floor about ten minutes ago and she'd been fidgety since minute three. She was restless and no matter how much she tried she couldn't stop her mind from racing. Sitting there with her fingers tapping furiously against her knees, Willow couldn't help but think of all the other more productive and proactive things she could be doing, but even though Jenny didn't practice, she'd said that meditation was essential in learning control and if there Willow wanted to learn.

And then Angelus had happened.

And Jenny.

And suddenly the most important thing was trying to keep her friends and herself from dying and then trying to figure out the Ritual of Restoration and trying to fill in for Buffy and eventually learning more powerful spells became more important than sitting in her room with her eyes closed and breathing deep.

Sitting now in Tara's room, it was totally different. She'd come over nearly two hours ago and besides a cup of tea when she entered the room and a brief, yet bright conversation contemplating the merits of honey as sweetener which had segued into Tara making up an amusing tale of a honeybee named Clive, the two girls had been meditating for the duration.

As the candle dripped more and more wax onto the thin paper tray Tara had set under it, Willow felt herself relax more and more and she knew it had to do entirely with the other woman's presence. She was peripherally aware of the sound of their combined breathing and the voices outside in the hall, but primarily she was focused on the feel of Tara's left hand on her palm and hers in Tara's right. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what she was feeling, this power or force mixing with hers, swirling and flowing together, except to say that it was pleasant. And powerful.

And right.


	6. Simple

"And, see, Xander has this way of understanding things that no one else does. Not math or history or anything, but, like people," Willow was saying from her position on Tara's bed. She and Tara had just returned from a late lunch at the Grotto and immediately returned to the blonde's dorm room for the night. Tara turned to look at her friend and closed the book she had been reading at her desk. She had been attempting to finish some last minute studying for her statistics class, but the redhead was proving to be an effective distraction. Not that she was complaining.

"You've known him a long time?" Tara asked, swiveling her desk chair to face Willow.

"Yeah, pretty much forever. I mean, we weren't always close, but he's been my best friend for years," Willow said. She was playing with the tassels of one of Tara's throw pillows that she'd pulled into her lap. Repositioning herself so that she was sitting on her heels she said, "But lately it's like…like we've been drifting away. It's like he's got his life and I've got mine and they don't mesh like they used to. Well, unless we're Scoobying."

Tara nodded and then shrugged one shoulder. "I think that it's all a part of life. Like, um, growing up? "

"What if I don't want to grow up?" Willow pouted petulantly as she put the pillow aside. Tara couldn't help but smile at the other girl's antics. It was kind of amazing to her that there were so many sides to the redheaded girl. There was the confident witch, the computer geek, the overachieving student, the loyal friend, the complete spaz, and the cool monster fighter to name a few. Tara couldn't help but giggle at the last in her mental list.

"Are you making fun of me?" Willow asked, somehow managing to pout even more.

"What? N-no," Tara shook her head, but before she could explain herself Willow was smiling sheepishly in her direction.

"I guess I was being pretty silly," she said shrugging awkwardly. The room was filled with companionable silence for several minutes. Willow was had moved so that her back was flush against Tara's headboard and was playing with the throw pillow once again and Tara had turned back to her slightly overwhelming textbook. Numbers had never been her strong suit.

"Hey, Tara," Willow said suddenly, keeping her voice low.

Twisting around to look back at her, Tara was surprised by what she saw. Willow had brought the pillow up to her chest and was hugging it tightly with her chin dipped down to it. She looked incredibly small.

"Y-yes, Willow?" Tara asked wondering what could possibly make the normally vivacious girl fall into herself like that.

Willow took a breath and continued to fidget with the pillow's tassels. Without looking up at Tara she asked, "You don't mind me coming over here so often, right? Because if you do, I'll stop. I mean, all I really do is talk and talk and I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to me go on and on and stuff…"

"I don't mind!" Tara hastened to correct her. Realizing that she had gotten a little excited, she tried to settle herself before speaking again. "Really, Willow, I l-like it when you come over."

Willow looked at her then, a hopeful expression on her face. "Really?"

"Really," Tara returned with a small smile.

"And the talking thing?" Willow asked hesitantly.

"You talk and I listen," Tara said. She paused for a moment before adding, "That's what friends are for."

Across from her Willow beamed. "Exactly."


	7. Knowledge

"Hmm…I thought that sounded familiar," Tara muttered to herself, leaning back against her headboard. In her lap she had open a well-worn paperback dictionary on top of the essay she was peer editing.

"What's familiar?" Willow asked, turning from her position next to Tara. She was lying on her stomach with her psych textbook open before her.

"Drabble. I think he meant to write 'dabble'…"

"What's it mean? Drabble?"

"'A short story of exactly 100 words'," Tara said reciting back the definition.

"Ya learn something new every day," Willow commented playfully before turning back to her studying.

"Mmhmm," Tara agreed.


	8. Companion

As the sun had gone down Tara and Willow retreated to the older girl's dorm to begin the ritual hiding. With no sign of Faith, the day had turned into a nice if somewhat nerve-wracking walk through campus and the surrounding areas. Although Tara did not know Faith she somehow doubted that she would be hiding out in the campus library or dining hall, but Willow had wanted to be thorough and Tara tended to defer to the redheaded witch on all matters 'cool monster fighter.'

As they walked they had talked about anything and everything. Tara had tried to keep the conversation light, knowing how stressed and majorly freaked out Willow was over the possibility of another confrontation with the rouge Slayer. Whenever possible Tara would reach out to touch her companion and place a calming hand on her shoulder or brush her fingers against the back of Willow's hand. She was hesitant at first, not as used to spontaneous displays of affection like Willow was, but each time she was met with a small grateful smile from the other girl which she met with her own.

"Thanks again for doing this with me," Willow said stepping into the blonde's room, "'Cause like I said, this was pretty above and beyond."

Tara shook her head, closing the door behind her. "Really, it's okay…I'm just glad that there wasn't any, um…"

"Swimming?" Willow finished for her, smiling.

Tara beams at the younger girl. "Yeah."

"Me too," Willow said collapsing onto the bed, "No swimming for us. Tara and Willow will be non-aquatic for the duration. Go us."

Willow turned her head towards Tara when she heard the other girl start to giggle.

"What?" she asked.

"'Willow will'" Tara said fighting her amused grin.

"Willow will what?" Willow asked confused. She frowned as Tara continued to laugh before realization dawned.

"Oh. Accidental alliteration," she remarked with understanding. She frowned again. "I did it again," she muttered to herself.

Still smiling, Tara crossed the room and sat down on her bed. She tucked one leg under herself and leaned back against one of her pillows. There was a paperback novel sitting under a tea light on her bed side table, but she made no move to grab it, not yet. Looking down at the redhead she could tell that her mind was racing and that she would want to talk about whatever it was that was buzzing around in her head.

Willow, meanwhile, was lost in her own head. She stared at the ceiling watching were Tara's fairy lights cast reflections off of the various paraphernalia and knick-knacks that filled the room. Suddenly she flipped over so that she was on her stomach, jostling Tara and the bed in the process. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked up at Tara's patient expression.

"You'd make a very good kindergarten teacher."

Tara raised an eyebrow. Not the conversation she thought was going to happen, but she let that go. Smiling a bit bemused, she gave no reply to Willow's declaration.

"You're very sweet and kind and I can just imagine you surrounded by a bunch of little kids as you explained things like spelling and the solar system," Willow continued in spite of Tara's silence, "And you could have arts and crafts time and decorate your classroom with your paintings and stuff."

"I'm not so sure…I'm not so good with, you know, crowds," Tara said.

"But they're so little. Hardly a crowd at all," Willow protested with a smile, "I think you'd be very good at it."

Tara had to admit that it was a nice thought, but she kept it to herself.

"What do you think? What do you want to be when you grow up?" Willow asked looking up playfully at the blonde. Her brow furrowed when she saw her friend stiffen. From where she was she couldn't see exactly where Tara was looking.

"I-I'm not sure. I like to take things one day at a time," Tara answered smiling down at her fiend before looking up again.

The calendar on the wall stared mutely back.


	9. Tremble

Images of Faith and Riley steadily moving together under his sheets and of Buffy huddled alone and scared in the back of some truck flitted through Willow's mind. Her head buzzed as she tried to process the information and it felt as though her entire body was on fire, but in an oddly good way. It was, to borrow Tara's word, intense.

Slowly she lifted herself up off the pillows that Tara had laid on the ground. She could hear the other girl's labored breathing and the warmth of her hand still grasped in her own. She looked down at their joined hands, marveling at their softness and strength. The spell had taken her somewhere beyond her imagination. She felt as though she was connected to everything everywhere at once and yet, through it all, Tara had been there to guide her. Tara had said that she would anchor Willow to this plane, to keep her from drifting, but as soon as the spell had started Willow could feel that Tara was more than just a tether tying her down. Despite her connection to the Nether Realm or to Buffy and Faith, she could feel Tara all around her. Her presence made her feel safe.

Feel loved.

Crossing her right hand over to take the place of her left, Willow intertwined her fingers with Tara's so that their palms were touching much like they were that night in the laundry room. Her heart thundered in her chest and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears as she shifted herself so that she was kneeling in front of the blonde woman. She leaned forward slightly to caress Tara's cheek with her left hand. She pulled back slightly when she heard Tara gasp, but after searching the blonde's face, moved it forward again to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear from where sweat had plastered it to Tara's face.

The two of them stayed like that, hands clasped, Willow cradling Tara's face, for what seemed like an immeasurable amount of time before hesitantly Willow began to lean forward only for Tara to meet her halfway. As soon as their lips touched Willow threw hesitancy out the window. Pushing herself forward she somehow managed to maneuver the two of them on to Tara's mattress. She landed with a soft thud on top of Tara and when she looked down to make sure that the blonde woman was alright, Tara smiled and lifted her head to recapture Willow's mouth with her own.

They're explorations soon grew to include hands and teeth and tongues in new and exciting places as Willow strove to show Tara exactly what she had made her feel and to repay her in kind. Willow wanted to wrap herself around the other woman, surround her and protect her from harm. In such a short time Tara had become important to her, more important than she realized, and Willow wanted nothing more than to show that to her and thank her somehow for coming into her life when she needed her most.

For now, Willow could only hope that this was enough as she stroked soft skin and tried to memorize the sound of Tara's breathing and the rhythm of her heartbeat.


	10. Transformation

Tara was not having a good day. It seemed like it had been a while since that had happened. Not since meeting a certain redheaded woman. Everything had been going so well. She and Willow were spending time together and she had finally introduced Tara to her friends. They had hung out. Willow had even taken her to a Scooby meeting at Mr. Giles's house. She was useful. She had a place to be. Things were good.

And then Oz appeared.

She guessed she shouldn't have been surprised by the development. She knew it would happen, that it was only a matter of time. That was just that pattern her life had: things go well for a moment before everything comes tumbling down. After all, someone –_something_ like her didn't deserve to be happy. Evil wasn't supposed to be rewarded. Besides, Willow deserved someone she could share her life with, she deserved to be loved. Oz could be that person.

Oz should be that person.

So when Tara heard the knock on the door she wasn't surprised but she still started in her chair before answering it. She stood and frantically wished that her heart would stop beating so loud. She took a deep breath to steady herself and willed her hand not to tremble as she turned the knob. Opening the door she noticed how uncomfortable Willow looked.

"Hi," Willow said awkwardly, picking at her fingernails unconsciously.

"Hi," Tara said back, her breath still a little shallow. Realizing that she that she was just staring at the redhead, Tara stepped aside to let Willow enter being careful to put some distance between them.

"I can only stay a minute, I have class," Willow explained. She sounded exhausted.

"Me too. I-I-I have class too," she said striving for normalcy but even to her ears it sounded stupid. Of course she had class. Willow didn't seem to notice the unnecessity of Tara's statement.

"I just wanted to let you know, what you saw this morning, it wasn't –"

"No, it's okay. I-I always knew that if he came back –" Tara cut her off quickly. She knew what this was, and why Oz had been in her room that morning, but Tara didn't think that she could take it if Willow actually told her what happened the night before. It was bad enough just having to imagine it.

"We were just talking," Willow said gently. "Nothing happened," she assured.

"Oh," Tara breathed. She couldn't help the hope from breaking her voice when she continued. "Really?"

Across from her Willow nodded before her expression quickly muddled again. "But, you know, it was intense. Just talking. We have a lot to talk about." Willow turned and walked further into the room.

"I kind of feel like my head's going to explode," she admitted.

The relief Tara felt moments before was swallowed by guilt. She needed to do what was right. This was her chance to let Willow free before anything else happened. Before she hurt her. She needed to give Willow an out so that she wouldn't feel guilty. It was better this way after all. Better now than…

Gathering her courage she said, "Whatever, you know, happens? I'll still be here. I'll still be your friend,"

"Of course we'll be friends" Willow cried out suddenly," That's not even a question." Her green eyes were wide and already shinning with tears, but Tara pressed on.

"But I'm saying, I know what Oz means to you..."

"How can you, when I'm not even sure?" Willow said looking away, seemingly moments away from crying. Without hesitation Tara stepped forward, wanting to provide whatever comfort she could.

"I mean, I know what he meant to me," Willow continued, "But he left. And everything changed. I changed. And then we..." Willow trailed off.

"What?" Tara asked desperately. They had never put into words what they were to each other before. Not in the months that they knew each other, practicing spells and sharing shy smiles. Not when they had first kissed or walked hand in hand through campus. Not even when they made love by candle-light had the two of them defined what they meant for each other. In that moment Tara didn't care if it was selfish or if it was going against her decision to let Willow go. Everything in her needed to know how the woman she had fallen in love with felt about them

"I don't know," Willow said, close to tears. "It's just …life was starting to get so good again, and you're a big part of that." Willow came closer and Tara could now see the teardrops collecting on her dark lashes. "And here comes the thing I wanted most of all. And I don't know what to do. I want to know. But I don't."

Tara resolute, reached up with one hand and caressed Willow's cheek. It came away wet.

"Do what makes you ha-happy."

Willow stepped forward and closed the gap between the two women. She sobbed as she pulled Tara closer to her. Automatically Tara wrapped her arms around the other girl's shoulders and began to stroke her hair. Even though she knew that she needed to let Willow go, that it was safer to stay away, no part of her could deny Willow the comfort that she so desperately needed…even if it was for the last time.

Tara shivered.

Wordlessly Willow pulled back just enough to drape the sweater she was wearing over Tara's shoulders.

"I should go," she said finally. Her hands were still on the blonde's shoulders and Tara reached up to squeeze them gently before releasing them. Tara watched her walk out the door and closed it as calmly as she could manage before she sunk down onto her bed and sobbed.


	11. Restless

Tara sat on her bed and tried her best to ignore the terse phone conversation going on behind her. She knew that everything that had happened yesterday at Mr. Giles's had really hurt her girlfriend deeply. It had taken hours for Willow's angry ranting to turn into shuddering sobs last night before she finally fell into a fitful sleep in Tara's could hear that pain and exhaustion creep back into Willow's voice as the continued her conversation with Buffy. She sighed when she heard Willow agree to meet the Slayer. Tara knew how much Willow's friends meant to her and could only imagine how Willow had felt about their less than spectacular reactions to her coming out yesterday, but her heart lifted somewhat at the thought of them working out their differences. These people were Willow's family and Tara couldn't be responsible for taking Willow away from the people who loved her. She wasn't that selfish.

"Yeah, okay," Willow said hanging up the phone. She took a deep breath and flopped face forward onto Tara's bed. Her cheek hit the corner of her laptop, but she didn't notice. When she finally resurfaced she just looked up at Tara for several long moments. Sighing again she got up and started to gather her things from where they had spread out during the course of the morning.

"I should get this stuff to Buffy," Willow said as she knelt down to collect her laptop off the bed. She stilled her hands before looking up apologetically at Tara. "I'm so sorry about yesterday. They shouldn't have..I mean I didn't think…"

"It's fine," Tara cut her off gently. Willow had apologized more than enough the night before.

"No it's not fine," Willow said firmly. She put her hand on Tara's thigh. "But it will be. We will be," she affirmed.

Tara smiled softly, leaned forward, and kissed Willow. When she felt Willow begin to deepen the kiss she reluctantly pulled away. "You should go," she reminded softly.

Willow pouted and nodded her head. "Yeah. I'll call or come over when I'm done, okay?"

"Okay," Tara nodded. Willow leaned forward to kiss Tara once again before getting up and leaving the room.

Several hours later Tara was pacing across the floor in front of her bed. Willow had just called to tell her that she and the Scobbies had reconciled, that they had come together to defeat Adam, and that she was spending the night at the Summer's home with the gang.

"It was incredible," Willow had gushed, "It was like nothing I've ever felt before. God, being connected to such a powerful source, it was – Oh! I guess I'll tell you more about it tomorrow. Xander wants to use the phone. I love you, baby. Good night."

The moment Tara had put down the phone, she began researching. Although Willow hadn't been very specific, Tara knew that whatever Willow, Buffy, and the rest had done had been immensely powerful. She'd felt it earlier and had been a nervous wreck until Willow called to tell her that she was okay. Everything Tara knew told her that the magicks that they called upon to forge the kind of connection Willow had talked about was incredible, dangerous, and should have been well beyond the skill of someone who had only been practicing for three years.

Suddenly exhausted, Tara stopped. She was worried about Willow, but as she got herself ready for bed she couldn't help but think that if Willow's powers continued to grow that when it came time she would be strong enough to control the demon or even stop it from even manifesting. She pulled the covers over herself to fight off an unusual chill and fell asleep hopeful for the first time in a long while.


	12. Promise

Promises are made to be kept. That was something that had been drilled into Tara from a very young age. Where she'd grown up a person was only as good as their word. Most of the families in the area had been living there for generations and after a while it became so that reputation and name meant more than a person's individual qualities. It was one of the reasons Tara never really had any friends growing up.

The Maclay legend had been perpetuated by years of hushed conversations and sidelong glances. The word "demon" was rarely used out of the Maclay household and the church, but it was not unheard of for mothers to warn their children about hanging around the Maclay girls. They'd just say that there was something…off about them. Something different.

As a child, Tara been quiet, shy, and tended to avoid crowds whenever she could help it. Not a lot changed as she got older, but as a kid she at least had her mother. If she had a bad day or if the teasing was too much or if her father said something to make her cry, she knew that all she had to do was crawl into her mother's lap and listen to her sing. Helena Maclay had a lovely singing voice and whenever Tara would hear it, she'd imagine that her mother was an angel sent down to comfort her. It made the days her father forced her to church bearable to be able to listen to her mother sing in the choir.

"Baby girl, whenever things get bad just remember that I love you," Helena would say to her daughter, "No matter what happens or what you do, I promise to always be there for you." Then she'd kiss Tara on the forehead or tuck her into her side and Tara knew without a doubt that she was safe.

In the end, it was the only lie her mother ever told her.


	13. Haze

Tugging at the leg of her loose jeans, Tara resettled herself on the grass. A warm breeze lifted her hair off of her face and blew it back over her shoulder. With her eyes closed she felt utterly at ease.

A soft snore drew her attention to the dozing woman next to her. Willow had called her early that morning wanting to go on a picnic. The way she suggested it made it sound like it was the most important thing the two of them could have possibly done at that moment in time. At Tara's bemused agreement, she explained her desire to make this the best summer vacation ever. She said it was her personal duty to make up for every summer before they had met. Tara smiled at the sentiment and agreed to meet at noon.

After all the sandwiches and fruit had been eaten, Willow had stretched herself out on the plaid blanket she'd claimed was essential to the picnicing experience and entertained herself by tracing nonsense patterns on Tara's thigh while she and Tara talked. Soon enough, however, conversation turned to companionable silence and Willow had begun to doze.

Reaching over, Tara gently brushed red hair out of her girlfriend's face. Light from the sinking sun caught it, transmuting copper to gold around the crown of her head. Tara suddenly wished she'd brought her sketchbook with her. Although she knew she could never replicate this exactly with her colored pencils, she wanted to capture this moment somehow.

Instead Tara took the moment to drink in the image of Willow's aura swirling in the glow of the setting sun as it mixed and settled in a soft halo around her sleeping lover.


	14. Letters

Willow bustled nervously around her bedroom in an attempt of straightening up a little before Tara arrived. Today her definition of "straightening up" meant making her childhood bedroom seem less…childish. With the boxes that held her dorm room things still packed up and sitting in the corner of the room, all Willow could see was the old her.

The five year old who'd begged for the toy chemistry set with the red microscope because it was her favorite color.

The nine year old who'd stayed up way too late at night hiding under her blanket with a flashlight and a book.

The twelve year old who'd stuttered through her Hebrew as she practiced reading the _haftarah_.

The fifteen year old who'd still let her mother dress her and later managed to clash horribly enough on her own.

The seventeen year old who'd tacked posters and stickers to the wall in some late blooming act of teenage rebellion.

Willow cringed. Tara had never known that girl, the Willow before the magic and the confidence and the super hero duties. The Willow who was just…some girl.

No one special.

A nobody.

Not that she was Little Miss-Sunnydale now or anything, but at least now she was someone's somebody. She was Tara's Willow. And it felt wonderful.

Smiling a little, Willow turned to grab some of her more embarrassing stuffed animals off of her bookshelf and inadvertently knocked over the top box on the stack she'd labeled "Dorm Life." Willow turned at the sound of the soft thud and bent down to pick up the box and resettle her small tower. She noticed that the lid had fallen a little ways away from the rest of the box. Crouching down Willow reached for it before finally realizing what she held in her hand.

A box full of envelopes.

There was no postage or address, and even though there had to be over a hundred in the box Willow knew that each of them repeated the same two letters.

Oz.

Willow sank to the floor with the box in her lap. A few of the envelopes fell out onto the floor, but she left them where they lay.

She remembered every word she had written in the months after Oz had left. As time went on her pen had scrawled heartfelt pleas for his return, desperate demands for explanations, vengeful desires, and eventually sincere and cordial hopes that he was well. She knew that if anyone were to read these letters in the order in which she had written them they could trace exactly the path her heart took to recovery and see it mend. And even though Willow had only mentioned Tara by name once or twice, she knew that they would be able to see exactly how much loving Tara had helped her heal.

Running her fingers over the ink of one of the envelopes, Willow sighed and placed it back in the box. She collected its fallen comrades and put them in as well before replacing the lid. Crawling across the floor, Willow set the box in the back of her closet next to the box to her first chemistry set and her violin case that she hadn't touched since she was eight.

Hearing the doorbell ring, Willow stood and brushed off imaginary lint. She closed the closet door deliberately and walked downstairs to greet her girlfriend.


	15. Order

"And this is where the magic happens," Willow announced with a grand sweep of her arms. "Well, not so much _magic_ as me burning holes in my sheets, but…" she corrected with a shrug.

Next to her, Tara was trying to take in everything. While she had gone to Willow's dorm room plenty of times, it was a shared space. Hints of Buffy were everywhere mixing with Willow's, not to mention the utilitarian nature of dorm rooms in general. The room before her now was pure, unadulterated Willow.

"It's cute," Tara said taking a step into Willow's bedroom. The light blue walls were covered in a hodgepodge of posters, frames, and flags. Academic medals hung proudly next to multi-colored pictures of dinosaurs and a banner supporting the Razorback swim team was tucked under several flyers advertising Dingoes Ate My Baby at the Bronze.

"Very you," Tara concluded. She turned to share a smile with her girlfriend. Willow blushed and muttered unintelligently. She crossed the room and sat on her bed while Tara moved over to the bookshelf. She sat silently as Tara lifted one hand and traced over the items she found most interesting with her fingertips. Tara stopped in front of one particularly compelling item, but from where Willow was sitting she couldn't tell what it was.

Tara was trying to figure out Willow's organizational system. She knew that there had to be one, what with the mind that Willow had, but for the life of her she could not figure it out. The stacks of books in Willow's dorm had been sorted by subject: class, supplemental, reference, etc. Seeing _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe _next to a used copy of _Automata and Computability _threw that theory out the window. Tara was curious as to what system the other woman had devised considering that she knew for a fact that Willow had memorized the Dewy Decimal Classification.

Settled in the ordered chaos of the book shelf were several framed photographs. Tara felt herself be drawn into one in particular. Willow, Xander, and Buffy were draped over each other and smiling. It must have been taken while the trio were in high school. Not only was the redhead's hair longer than Tara had ever seen it, the expressions they all wore seemed much freer. They were happy. Intellectually she knew that the three of them had been facing demons since they were fifteen, but in this photograph, at that moment, they just looked like ordinary, happy kids.

"Whatcha' got?" Willow asked from the bed.

Tara smirked instead of answering. "You were a very cute kid."

Willow stood and walked over to where Tara was standing. She looked down at the picture that had the blonde so engrossed and smiled.

"I remember that," Willow said suddenly nostalgic, "It was right after we'd met Buffy. We knew she was the Slayer and stuff by then and had finally convinced her that we could help. That it was good to have friends to back you up."

"Friends are important," Tara mused.

"Yeah," Willow agreed absently. "Things seemed so simple then," she reflected wistfully.

Tara said nothing but reached down and took her girlfriend's hand. Willow gently squeezed her fingers gratefully in return.

"So," Willow said in an attempt to dispel the melancholy mood, "what do you feel like doing? 'Cause personally I feel like doing a whole lot of nothing."

"Sweetie, you couldn't do nothing if you tried," Tara pointed out playfully.

"Maybe I'm not trying hard enough," Willow protested walking in the direction of the bed and tugging at Tara's hand so that she would follow. Reaching the white wicker frame, she plopped down on the mattress pulling Tara with her. Willow laid on her side so that she could face the blonde. She pushed her forehead against Tara's and whispered, "Help me try?"

"Always," Tara smiled.


	16. Prepared

Willow Rosenberg liked to be prepared. She might overdo it sometimes, working herself into a frenzy trying to plan out every minute detail, but in some ways it was very reassuring to know that in the event of a mad scientist resurrecting dinosaurs she would know exactly how fast she would need to be in order to avoid being eaten by a velociraptor.

She had Xander to thank for that tidbit of information and the hours of research that it had taken to come by it after he had insisted that they see _Jurassic Park_ as their first official PG-13 movie without supervision…or sneaking in.

She checked the contents of her canvas shoulder bag one more time before compulsively patting her jean's pockets to make sure her wallet and keys were there. Her had put them there just moments before, but it had become part of her ritual when leaving her room after she once locked herself out of the dorm all night when Buffy had been patrolling. Not that it was all bad, she did get to spend the night with Tara which was always very nice.

Willow smiled. Even just a cursory thought of the blonde haired Wiccan made her feel so incredibly happy. Tara had a way of making her feel whole. Complete. Like she filled in all the pieces of Willow that were missing and made her stronger. It was amazing and just a little bit intoxicating.

She'd never known she could feel so strongly about another person. Not in the years she'd spent pinning after Xander or the intense relationship she shared with Oz had she felt so completely in love with a person. It seemed as like even before she'd consciously realized it, she'd given herself over to Tara, mind, body, and soul.

A sudden beeping tore Willow away from her thoughts. She looked down and shut off the alarm on her multi-colored plastic watch. _Crap_ she thought _I'm going to be late._ She'd set the alarm as a reminder in case she got too wrapped up in the new computer program she was writing to notice the time. She hadn't accounted for getting lost in Tara-thought oddly enough.

Patting her pockets one more time, Willow made her way out of the house and started her walk in the general direction of the Sunnydale campus. Tara had signed up for summer session so that she could keep her on-campus housing, but today was her light day and Willow wanted to surprise her with a walk through the park where they could maybe feed the ducks and enjoy the sunshine.

After an uneventful bus ride, Willow knocked on Tara's door. "Hi," she said, pulling out a handful of wildflowers from behind her back. She'd seen them growing along the walkway outside the building and thought they were pretty.

"Hi," Tara said back. She took the flowers and brought them close to her face. They didn't really smell like anything, but she smiled anyway. Tara stepped out of the room and locked the door behind her. She reached down and took Willow's hand as they started walking outside.

"So, I was thinking we could go to the park today. Maybe we can see if the baby ducks got any bigger," Willow said. She intertwined her fingers with Tara's so that their palms were flat against each other and swung their joined hands lightly between them.

"Aren't we meeting Dawn today? You two were going to teach me to play chess?" Tara asked.

"Oh!" Willow exclaimed. She stopped walking and used her free hand to hit herself in the forehead. "I can't believe I forgot. You won't tell her will you?" Willow looked up at Tara pleadingly. Tara laughed at the expression.

"You're secret's safe with me."


	17. Move

Tara walked over to the open box on the sink. Xander had just left, having finished carting all of Willow's things to the dorm. Willow had waved off his apology at not being able to help unpack. She knew that he was on Dawn duty tonight which meant pizza, board games, and Anya. Willow said she could do without thirty-three percent of that and wished him luck.

Shifting through the box, Tara thought about how quickly she had taken to Dawn and how fond the teenager seemed of her. Growing up, Tara had always had trouble connecting with people so she was a little stunned at how fast Dawn had opened up to her. Tara knew that when Willow had come out there had been some tension and weirdness between her and the Scoobies that lasted even now. Even Mrs. Summers had been minorly freaked after Willow had explained that she was "way ahead of her" when it came to giving up men during the whole Dracula incident.

If Tara hadn't been so anxious about whether or not Mrs. Summer's approved (which seemed a whole lot more important if Willow's own mother knew…or cared) Tara might of laughed at the obvious resemblance between Joyce and her eldest daughter. It had worked out okay, though. After some stuttering and rambling on both ends, Mrs. Summers had pulled Willow into a hug telling her that she was happy as long as Willow was happy.

Dawn, on the other hand, had laughed off Willow's carefully worded explanation of her relationship with Tara saying "I know what lesbians are." She was more interested in the fact that Tara knew all these things about magic and art and didn't treat her like she was four years old. They'd bonded over milkshakes, clichéd romantic comedies, and their shared status as Non-Scoobies. Tara might get to help with an occasional spell or two and some research, but Buffy kept Dawn so far away from the Slaying side of Sunnydale that the teen was effectively shut out from a large part of her sister's life.

"Poor Dawn..." she mused out loud. She wasn't sure how this conversation will go, but she continues anyway. She felt a kinship to the young brunette girl and she didn't feel like it was her place to bring this up to Buffy. Willow was her safe place, though.

"She was pretty shaken up," she continued.

"Well, sure. Bloody death and stuff," Willow conceded walking in from the hall. "She'll be okay." Willow said with an encouraging smile.

Tara sometimes forgot just how long Willow and her friends had been dealing with what Willow called "all things Hell-mouthy." The slight callousness and desensitization to grizzly murder and mayhem was to be expected. But still…

"It's just...I-I think it's tough for her," Tara tried to find the right words to explain this so that Willow would understand exactly what about the situation was bothering Dawn. "Not being able to – _allowed_ to– you know, help."

Willow turned towards the blonde not sure what she meant. "Help?"

"Out." Tara clarified looking over at Willow, "You. You guys. The Slayer circle." Turning back to the box she continued unpacking toiletries.

"Oh, well, Buffy really doesn't need—" Willow tried again, "And I think Dawn's a little young to—"

"I-I know. You're right," Tara acknowledged before pressing on, "It's just hard. The outsider feeling."

At the bed, Willow stopped unpacking.

"Tara," Willow said firmly, "You're not an outsider."

"Well, yeah. Kinda am," Tara maintained turning to face Willow fully. She didn't really feel too bad about it, not really. That's just who she was.

"No," Willow said adamantly as she crossed the room to stand before Tara, "No, you're not."

"Willow, it's okay. Where does this go?" Tara asked holding up a canister trying to distract the redhead and steer the conversation away from herself all the while wondering how it got there in the first place. Willow, however, was on a roll.

"Is someone making you feel uncomfortable? Is it Xander? It's Xander, isn't it?" Willow asked and answered her own question.

"Xander's a sweetie," Tara said amused.

"It's Giles!" Willow exclaimed like she'd solved a riddle, "It's 'cause he's British and doesn't understand about stuff."

Willow started gesticulating to make her point and Tara couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"It's no one," Tara insisted turning back to the sink. She continued to unpack and put a little distance between herself and Willow as she went on, "You guys all just have this really tight bond. It's-It's hard to break into that and I'm not even sure I want to."

Tara felt Willow come up behind her and wrap her arms around Tara's waist. Dropping her chin onto Tara's shoulder, Willow said, "I'm sure."

Instinctively Tara moved her body against Willow's, putting her hands over her girlfriend's and falling into the embrace. She could feel the heat radiating from Willow's body and took comfort in the familiar smell of magic and citrus that clung to the redhead. She always felt safe wrapped in Willow's arms.

"You're completely one of the gang now. Everyone accepts that," Willow reassured her and she smiled, "You're one of the good guys."

The spell was broken. Tara pulled herself away from Willow under the guise of continuing to unpack.

"Maybe I can talk to the others and we can do something. You know, a kind of Scooby initiation," Willow continued, oblivious to the change in Tara. She started to get excited. "Oh, maybe we can all wear some special ring that identifies us as members."

"I don't think so," Tara shot her down gently, "But maybe something like that would be nice for Dawn. I do worry about her sometimes."

"You don't have to. She's got big sister Buffy happily looking out for her," Willow assure, pulling out a few magical supplies to put on her bedside table.

"That might be the problem," Tara muttered.

"What?" Willow asked from by the bed.

"It's…sometimes Dawn feels like no one trusts her, you know, with the important stuff," Tara said.

"Important stuff?" Willow parroted. She turned to face Tara who was still shuffling things around at the sink.

"Yeah, like monsters and stuff." Tara shrugged. "I-I mean, you and Xander were about her age when you guys started the Scooby thing." Her back was to Willow but she could see the other woman furrow her brow in the mirror.

"Are you saying that you think Dawn should go out patrolling?" Willow asked confused "Because – "

"N-no. No. Nothing like that," Tara interrupted. "It's just…these things have a way of finding you no matter what. She should know what's out there…to protect herself?" She hadn't meant for it to end in a question, but Tara was unused to conflict. She actually tended to avoid it whenever she could, but in the last year she'd come into her own and had gotten better at being declarative at least. Some habits took longer to break.

"I guess…" Willow said slowly, "I just don't think that Buffy would want little sis bumping elbows with the big nasties, even if only academically."

Still at the sink, Tara nodded. The box she'd been unpacking was empty and she didn't know what to do with her hands. She fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before turning to Willow.

"What's next?" she asked, effectively ending their earlier conversation. She knew that Willow was still mulling over what she had said and wanted to move on to less serious issues.

"Well, we could try to finish up what's here," Willow said surveying the mess of boxes around her room. "Or we can call it a day, get some pizza, and try to teach Miss Kitty some new tricks." Willow suggested with a smile.

Tara smiled and nodded her head in agreement. It would be nice to relax after a day like this one.

"Yay," Willow cheered as she skipped forward to take Tara's hand. "Onwards to cheesy goodness," she announced as she pulled Tara out the door, the blonde happy to follow along.


	18. Formal

Tara tried not to think about how odd it was that Willow had to organize an appointment through an assistant to arrange dinner with her parents. She understood that all families were different and it wasn't in her nature to judge, but the formal professionalism that Willow had exhibited while orchestrating the evening made Tara feel like she was about to go on a job interview which did nothing to help her nerves.

She pulled at the hem of her shirt for the twenty-sixth time since Willow had come to pick her up from the dorm driving Xander's car. Willow had justified driving by saying that the bus was pretty unpredictable the later it got and she wanted to make sure that they had an escape route open to them if things got too uncomfortable. Tara had smiled gratefully at the thought, but honestly she thought that it was more Willow's desire to be seen as a competent adult spurred the decision to exercise the right the state of California had given her to drive.

Tara moved her hand for hem pull number twenty-seven when she felt Willow's smaller one on hers. She let Willow fold their hands together while the redhead unlocked the front door.

"Mom?" Willow called out. "You here?"

Guiding Tara by the hand, Willow walked towards the dining room. Sheila stood with her back to the door way with her phone held up against her ear.

"Mom," Willow said again, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Sheila turned around quickly and looked questionably at Willow before hanging up.

"Oh, Willow. I didn't hear you come in. Aren't you a little early?" the older woman asked.

"No, Ma," Willow sighed, "We agreed to meet at seven. It's seven."

"I could have sworn that I had more time," Sheila said distractedly. She had turned back to the phone she held in her hand and the notes she had placed near its cradle.

Willow wasn't quite sure why she thought that here mother would act any differently than she was acting now and it didn't stop the disappointment she was feeling. She felt Tara give her hand a reassuring squeeze and remembered the reason they were there in the first place.

_It's just dinner. A couple hours and we can go._ Willow thought to herself. _It's just dinner. It's just dinner._

"Mom, this is Tara, my girlfriend," Willow said proudly, making sure to turn and give Tara an encouraging smile.

"Nice to meet you, Taryn," Sheila greeted stiffly.

"N-n-nice to m-meet you, too, Mrs. Rosenberg," Tara returned politely. She tried to move forward to offer her hand, but Willow still hand an iron grip on her hand so Tara settled for a shy wave. Sheila didn't seem to notice.

"It's _Tara_, Mom. No 'n.'" Willow corrected. Tara squeezed her hand to let her know it was alright, but Willow just shook her head. This was important.

"Is Dad coming?" Willow asked hopefully. She and her father might not have the best relationship, but at least his presence would diffuse the neurotic time-bomb that was her mother. If nothing else, he'd provide a buffer between herself and the older woman.

"He said he'd called you. His flight was delayed so he decided to stay in Toronto. He sends his best," Sheila explained airily.

"Oh," Willow muttered, disappointed.

"Don't just stand over there, Willow," her mother reprimanded, "the food will get cold."

"Yes, ma'am," Willow mumbled sarcastically. Tara shot her a chiding look and Willow shrugged sheepishly. Willow pulled out a chair for Tara and settled in the one next to it. Sheila sat across from the two of them. From the overall pleasant aroma of the food in front of them, Willow knew that her mother had had the food delivered. She whispered as much to Tara before the blonde had a chance to falsely compliment her mother's cooking.

For several moments there was no other sound than that of utensils scraping plates as Willow served both her mother and Tara before herself. Tara smiled and thanked Willow causing the redhead to flush slightly.

Eventually Sheila turned to Tara and, in what might have been her best approximation of starting polite conversation, said, "So, Teri, do you know Willow from school? I don't think Willow's brought you by before. You're not dating that loud Harris boy, are you?"

"Tara's _my _girlfriend," Willow reiterated possessively.

"Yes, Willow, I can see that she is a girl. I'm asking her how you got acquainted," Sheila said with condescending patience.

"No, Mom. Tara's not a friend who's a girl. She's my girlfriend. As in gay-lesbian lov—" Willow stopped herself. "We're dating." She finished lamely. Next to her Tara had blushed the color of Willow's hair at her near slip. _That definitely would have been an overshare._

"Oh that's great Willow," Sheila said excitedly. Willow couldn't help the surprised, yet pleased expression off her face.

"Really? Because I was afraid that—"

"No, no," Sheila interrupted, "This is exactly what this town needs. Something to shake up perceptions. I was just at a conference with a colleague of mine who was writing about the gay stigma in small towns. I should probably give him a call –"

"Mom!" Willow cut her mother off, "I'm not dating Tara because she's a woman. I'm dating her because I love her." Her voice was terse and she was in danger of starting to yell. Tara silently put her hand on Willow's thigh which comforted her immediately. Taking a deep breath, Willow calmed down and said, "No gimmicks or statements. We're just in love, Mom."

_Just a whole lot of love._


	19. Wind

_October 16, 1988_

Tara sat up right in the wooden straight-back chair. Her shoulders wanted nothing more than to slump forward into a more relaxed position, but she didn't dare with her father there. His sharp gaze would fall upon her if she even so much as thought about slouching and though he never raised his voice at her, his stern reprimand was enough to make Tara nervous.

No. That wasn't the right word. Her father didn't make her nervous.

He terrified her.

So Tara learned to sit still. To speak only when spoken to. To blend in to the walls. She learned to disappear.

On the kitchen table in front of her was the white cake layered with strawberries that her mother had baked early that morning. It was Tara's favorite because when she was younger, she was fascinated by how the fruit could possibly grow in there. She'd asked her mother once, but all she had done was laugh musically and whisper, "It's magic."

Pulling at the stiff collar of her dress, Tara wished she could ask her again. She figured she was old enough now to get a real answer. She knew strawberries didn't grow in cake, that her mom had sliced each one carefully and laid them in between each layer of cake, but she also knew her mom would tell some tall tale about helper elves or maybe twinkling pixies who helped make little girl's birthday cakes with extra love. But she couldn't.

_Mama's resting, _she reminded herself. _She's resting because she's not feeling good and you need extra rest to make your body strong again._

Tara resigned herself to staring at the cake again. The frosting was cracked from being put in the fridge all day. Her mother had told Donny to cover while they went to church, but as usual he ignored her. Donny was thirteen now, officially a teenager, and had said that he was too old for his mom to be making him do girly stuff. He was almost a man and should only be doing men's work. Like what he was doing right now with their father out in the yard.

The back door was open, so Tara sat still knowing that her father could walk in at any moment. Right now though she couldn't see them. All she could see was the garden she and her mother had been working on since as long as she could remember. The really powerful things they let grow in their secret spot in the forest, but the pretty things Dad let them grow around the house. Heather and lavender grew in purple clumps surrounded by mint and feverfew plants while jasmine would creep around the railing of the back porch. In fall, she and her mother would make heather honey and bake honey cakes as a special treat. Tara considered going out and picking some of the flowers to bring up to her mom or maybe making her a cup of mint tea, but she knew that as soon as she moved her father would come back into the house and she'd get in trouble for getting her Sunday clothes dirty.

The frosting was beginning to melt in the temperate heat. The flowers her mom had piped on top were beginning to lose their shape. She hoped Donny and her father would hurry back inside so that they could cut the cake. She knew Donny would get a bigger piece because he was older and had more stomach to put food in, but all Tara really wanted to do was cut off a piece and take it upstairs. Maybe she and her mom could eat it when she woke up from her nap.

Hesitantly Tara reached out to touch the large knife next to the cake. Right as she was about to touch her fingertips to the blade, her father walked in.

"Tara!"

The knife clattered loudly to the floor, the tip colored red.

_2000_

"S-sorry!" Tara cried out. She nearly tumbled out of bed when the nightmare woke her. The candle by her bedside tumbled to the floor when her arm shot out of its own accord. It was unlit and in the blue/gray wash of pre-dawn light she could hardly make out the sun graphic that decorated its sides.

"Tara?" Willow asked drowsily. Her arm, which had previously been draped over Tara's stomach, reached out automatically to restore the lost contact. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes. Go back to sleep," Tara said quietly as she settled back into the bed. She couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming of, but still she took calming breaths to try and placate her heart that was pounding in her chest. She felt Willow snuggle in close to her and pull her close. Tara wrapped her arms around Willow's which the redhead had somehow wound around Tara's waist.

"Can't. My pillow's tryin' ta escape," Willow said simply, burying her face in Tara's neck. They stayed like that for a while as Tara's breaths became deeper and more relaxed and Willow pressed her lips against the skin of Tara's shoulder. Willow waited for the tell-tale sign of regular breathing from her girlfriend and when it didn't come she asked, "Still can't sleep." She kept her voice low, quiet against the silent backdrop of the now that was somewhere between night and day where it was just Willow and Tara and gentle warm.

"Not really," Tara admitted. She let herself play with the thin fingers folded under her chest. Willow's hands fascinated her. They were capable of such power and strength as well as great acts of compassion and comfort. She'd seen them handle ancient texts, careful with the whisper thin pages; she'd seen them fly across a computer's keyboard opening up doorways and finding information that Tara could hardly comprehend; she'd even seen them caress the ivory keys of a piano once late at night in the rec room.

"It's just been a pretty intense day," Tara said after a while.

"I get it," Willow said, "…I could sing you a song if you want."

Even though Willow couldn't see her face, Tara figured that her girlfriend could imagine the expression on her face. Willow hated to sing. She said that her voice sounded like elderly toads on helium, an image Tara still couldn't wrap her head around, and no matter how many times Tara assured her that she loved her singing voice, Willow would remain tight-lipped on the subject.

"You're going to sing?" Tara asked incredulously.

"Yep. Special one-time-it's-your-birthday-lullaby offer," Willow smiled, "You ready?"

"Oh yes," Tara breathed. Her eyes widened in shock when she suddenly felt Willow's hot breath blowing in her ear. Startled, she giggled and squirmed out of their embrace. Flipping around she looked at Willow and questioned, "What was that?"

Willow smiled innocently and replied, "It was the song of my people."

"Your people?" Tara repeated skeptically.

Pulling Tara close again, Willow nodded. "Tree people. We have to use the wind to sing because we have no mouths," she explained logically.

Tara raised an eyebrow and had to fight the grin from her face. "If you don't have mouths, then how can we do this?" she asked as she lifted her head to kiss Willow.

"Mmm?" Willow muttered distractedly. "Maybe I'm only part tree. Like Ents."

"Or Grandmother Willow," Tara suggested as she leaned forward again.

Willow pulled back suddenly. "I hope you don't do that to any grandmothers," she grouched.

"Nope. Just you, ya goof," Tara laughed, her smile taking over her whole face.

"Good," Willow declared, "'Cause I kinda like having you just to myself."

"Mmm," Tara hummed. Her eyes started to slip closed as she relaxed against Willow's chest. Willow leaned forward on last time and placed a soft kiss on the top of Tara's head.

"Good night, love."


	20. Accusation

"It might be powerful, but it's not natural, Willow," Tara said her voice rising, "We are not gods!"

"Well, we're gonna have to be. You heard the Council. They might be pompous, bureaucratic bigots, but they know what they're talking about. We won't stand a chance against Glory if we're not willing to up the ante a little bit," Willow countered. They were drawing curious looks from passersby as they crossed the quad. They weren't used to this kind of direct confrontation from the normally genial blonde. Usually the two women represented that type of relationship that you couldn't help but be envious of. The relationship between two people who were just meant for each other.

A few bolder students leaned against low walls to see how the argument would pan out.

"Not like this," Tara insisted, resolute. She hated to fight. _That's what we're doing, aren't we? Fighting?_ It's not like she and Willow did it all that often. Sure they had disagreement and occasionally one of them would snap at the other when they were frustrated, but she couldn't remember any real, drawn-out fights between them. She didn't particularly want to start one now, but well…this was important.

"Willow, we'll find another way. A better way," Tara said finally aware of their audience, "Later."

"Right. Later," Willow huffed. She too had noticed the small gathering of lookyloos. She glared at the boy nearest her until he backed away slowly.

Willow scuffed the toe of her shoe against the pavement as she and Tara continued to walk, a tense silence between them. They were headed to the Magic Box for some much needed research time with the books the Council had finally sent over. She scowled when her foot caught on uneven paving and she stumbled. She felt Tara catch her before she fell and shot her girlfriend a weak smile in thanks. Tara nodded and continued walking.

What Willow couldn't understand was why Tara was so against her ideas. After the jerk Council guy had finished their interview, she had looked up what exactly a level 5 witch could do. And boy, what could they do. She'd also started to flip through some of Giles' rarer top-self books looking for something, anything, to help them keep Dawn safe and not dead by the hands of Glory.

So some of the spells were technically dark magick. It wasn't like Willow was planning on calling the Lords of the Underworld and selling her soul so that giant bitch-eating worms would chow down on the Hellgod…although she did still have D'Hoffryn's card.

_Note to self: research capabilities of vengeance demons_ Willow thought.

Willow had even found a powerful teleportation spell the other day that she thought would be helpful in quick escapes. The only problem was that it was actually a form of dimensional displacement which apparently _could_ cause small rips in the area for a limited amount of time and required massive amounts of energy. Willow had thought of a way to modify it so that the energy could be drawn from more than one source. She'd even toyed with the idea of maybe drawing energy from the surrounding areas like, for example, a Hellmouth, but Tara had been firmly against all of those ideas.

It was frustrating to Willow to have the power she needed so close, but not being able to use it. They were depending on her to keep Dawnie safe. And Buffy and Xander and even Anya. That was her thing. She found the answers that no one else could. And now she couldn't even do that.

Frowning, Willow kicked at the ground again.

"You'll put a hole through your shoe," Tara warned. Willow shrugged in response. Tentatively, Tara reached for Willow's hand. The feel of their fingers automatically curling around each other was comforting. "I know it's frustrating. And scary. But we'll figure it out."

"Yeah?" Willow asked flexing her hand in Tara's. It was amazing how such a simple gesture had such a profound effect on her mood. "Promise?" she added, although she knew better. Promises on the Hellmouth were made to be broken.

Tara turned towards Willow and without breaking stride, she swore, "Cross my heart."


	21. Denial

"No, no I don't think she took anything else, but Buffy, she's smart. Resourceful. I just don't want her getting hurt," Tara said into the mouthpiece of the phone. Somewhere in the back of her mind she noticed that she hadn't stuttered once in this conversation. This was about magic and grief; she knew what she was talking about. But mostly Tara was concerned about Dawn. About what she might do and how she must be feeling. It was something else Tara knew about.

She hung up and replaced the phone in its cradle with a sigh. Turning to the bookcase, she knelt before it and began running her fingers over the spines. Besides the sizable gap where "History of Witchcraft" had rested, she didn't see anything else out of place.

"What are you doing?" Willow asked. She'd been sitting uncomfortably on the bed while Tara was calling Buffy and was now wringing her hands worriedly in her lap. She hoped Dawn was okay. She hadn't meant for…she was only trying to help.

"Looking to see if Dawn took anything else," Tara answered with her back still turned towards Willow.

"She didn't," Willow said quickly. Tara spun on her toes to look at her. "I mean…what else would she take? Nothing here could help her with – "Willow hastily tried to explain.

"Willow," Tara said firmly. Getting to her feet, she moved so that she was standing over the other woman. It was an imposing position, which was unusual for the normally gentle woman.

"Well, uh, see…"Willow stammered. Willow was not one for direct confrontation. She never responded well to it. Usually she shut down or avoided and skirted the issue. Sometimes though, if it was a serious issue, she would push back. Hard.

Right then her brain was telling her to take another route: deny, deny, deny. Anything to keep Tara from getting upset. From being disappointed in her.

"Willow," Tara repeated wearily.

She should have known that Tara was too perceptive to let this go. The older woman knew her so well.

"I was just trying to help," Willow admitted in a small voice. That much was true at least, but it didn't absolve the guilt. Some part of her had known what she'd done was wrong, that was the reason she hid her actions, but truly all she wanted was to help Dawn.

"I know, sweetie, but some of the ritual referenced in there are pretty dangerous," Tara said.

"I didn't think she'd…I thought I was helping, you know, that if she could see for herself how dangerous it was or, or if maybe it would help her to understand a little about everything," Willow justified.

"That's still not the point, Willow," Tara reiterated.

"Then what is? I don't get what's wrong with trying to fix this," Willow demanded. She stood and took a step back away from the bed. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she waited for Tara to answer.

"It's not natural," Tara said, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Hadn't they just talked about this or something similar the other day? "It's not something you can fix. There's a balance in the world. People live and..and they die. And we have to respect that."

"What then? We should do nothing? By that logic aren't we disrupting the balance every time we go patrolling with Buffy? Every time we stop the world from ending?" Willow probed getting riled up. She knew that wasn't what Tara meant, but dammit, she wasn't the type of person who just let things happen. Not anymore. Not if she could help it. She wasn't going to be that girl that everyone could walk all over, not even the universe or the so-called Powers That Be.

"No, but we…we can't save everyone. And we can't mess with life and death. No matter how much we may want to," Tara answered sadly. As soon as she'd finished speaking, both girls could feel the fight empty out of them, leaving only resigned sorrow.

"Your mom," Willow said softly. Suddenly she felt like a cold-hearted idiot. Of course Tara would be thinking of her mom right now. How could she not? She was older than Dawnie, but still so young.

"Yes," Tara replied downcast. She wrapped her arms around herself and hugged her stomach tightly. Willow recognized the gesture. Tara was retreating.

Willow stepped forward and reached out to put her hands gently on Tara's elbows. "Hey," she whispered, "I'm sorry. I just…" She trailed off. She wanted to apologize for being a jerk, but she didn't know how exactly. Tara just nodded her head. With one hand, Willow lifted Tara's chin so that she could look directly into her lover's eyes. The slate blue looked darker surrounded by damp eyelashes. Tipping her chin, Willow kissed Tara firmly on the forehead and wrapped her in her arms.

"You want to talk about her?" Willow asked hesitantly. Tara nodded into her shoulder.

Pulling away, the blonde asked, "What do you want to know?"

Willow smiled warmly and kissed Tara's forehead again. "Everything."


	22. Mad

The apartment was abnormally quiet for currently housing four adults. Even the normal creaking from the neighbors moving around upstairs and the sound of water rushing through pipes seemed muted by the oppressive grief that hung in the air. Anya was busy in the kitchen re-boiling the water she'd let cool to make herself feel useful. She glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. Willow had closed the door to the bedroom an hour ago.

Since then the only things that broke the silence were the sounds of bubbling water and the soft mewl that would occasionally tear its way out of Tara's throat. Anya looked over at the other woman. Willow had said that the medication she had given Tara might make her drowsy, so Anya took it upon herself to move her friend over to the more comfortable couch. Because that's what friends do.

Or, at least, that was what she was learning that friends do.

Halfrek had been Anyanka's best friend for centuries, but there were apparently different standards in the demon community than among humans. Demon friends would gladly trade information or lend a hand when you were decimating a small village of wife beating child molesters, but would they sit up with you and wipe apple sauce off of your face after you had been rendered a dribbling mess by some fashion obsessed Hellgod? Probably not. More than likely you would just be made an example of; a cautionary tale about being weak.

Anya turned off the stove and moved the kettle to the back burner. She walked over to the couch and tried not to notice the sadness she felt when Tara didn't even look up at the sudden movement. Anya suddenly felt anger rise up in her as she watched the other woman furrow her brows in her sedated state. This whole thing made no sense. She'd been a vengeance demon for god's sake, and this whole situation assaulted her sense of justice.

This wasn't how it was supposed to work.

Good people got chocolate and puppies and happy babies while bad people got eviscerated and then strangled with their large intestine. Good people didn't get brain-sucked by some annoying hell bitch. And Tara _was_ Good. Capital G. You took one look at her and couldn't help but see how good she was.

Tara was strong and kind and she never made fun of Anya when she made some sort of social gaffe. Tara would help her around the store where she was surprisingly knowledgeable about rare herbs and plants and she would always pay if she needed supplies. Anya was even teaching Tara how to best invest her scholarship refunds so that she would have some money available to her after she graduated. They would laugh at each other's jokes and help each other out when they didn't understand something. They were friends. Tara had even said so.

Anya flinched when she suddenly felt the roughness of Tara's cast scratch the back of her hand. Tara had turned over and was holding Anya's hand with both of hers. Flipping Anya's hand so that it was palm up, Tara began to lightly trace the lines on the center of her hand. She kept her eyes downcast and was muttering under her breath and although it was the only sound in the apartment, Anya couldn't make out what she was saying.

This was so wrong. Tara was her friend, her _best _friend, and now she was broken. All her pieces didn't fit together anymore and now Tara was only_ mostly_ Tara and had whole chunks of her Taraness missing. It was stupid.

With Tara still holding onto her hand, Anya wished fervently that she had her powers back. Then maybe all this won't have happened. Tara would be okay, Giles wouldn't have a hole in his gut, Dawn would be safe, and Buffy wouldn't have to have her head shrunk by Willow and Xander would be sitting next to her while they watched some Lifetime movie he'd deny was his idea.

She'd seen how Willow looked in the hospital after they'd put the cast on Tara. She'd known that Willow would go after Glory then, how could she not? Even without her powers, Anya could feel it. Willow's need for vengeance was written all over her face. If she'd had her powers, she could have helped. Willow might be crazy powerful, but Tara was her friend, too, and she wouldn't say no to a little vengeance for herself.

"The March hare takes blood in her tea," Tara murmured suddenly. She had dropped Anya's hand and was now playing fitfully with her own in her lap. The rough plaster kept snagging on the soft robe Willow had dressed her in. Tara was whimpering again so Anya scoots over and awkwardly puts her arm around the other woman's shoulders. This comforting thing was new and unnerving for Anya, but it seemed to calm Tara down.

Anya heard shuffling from inside the bedroom and looked up curiously. The door opened and Buffy walked out. Willow trailed behind, staggering a bit, and automatically went to stand behind Tara. She bent down and dropped a kiss on the blonde's head. Tara smiled contentedly and wrapped her arms around Willow's waist. Willow made eye contact with Anya and without saying anything, nodded her head in thanks all the while brushing her hand against the back of Tara's head.

Anya looked away.

"Ready?" Anya asked getting to her feet.

Buffy nodded determined. "Let's do this."


	23. Summer

Buffy was dead.

No matter how many times Willow thought that simple sentence, she couldn't believe it. And it was such a simple sentence .

Subject. Verb. Predicate. But it was so much more than that.

This was _Buffy _after all.

The blonde former cheerleader who had befriended the hapless redheaded nerd because she saw something special in her.

The superhero who had saved the world countless times without recognition or accolade because it was the right thing to do.

The young woman who had lost her mother way too soon and had stepped up to be there for her little sister because no one else could.

The same woman who had been Willow's best friend for years.

Shaking her head, Willow tried to banish those thought. _I can't start crying again,_ she thought, _not now._ Determined, Willow continued her walk up the stairs. Tara was sitting down in the living room with Dawn, trying to get the teenager to eat something while Willow finished moving their things into Joyce's room. It was going to be awkward, but it made the most sense logically. It wasn't like they could fit into Buffy's room, not so soon after.

Willow dropped the box she'd been carrying carelessly on the bed. She looked around the room and could only see Joyce on the walls. She knew Tara had been in there earlier, dusting off the wardrobe and dresser and hanging poster and picture frames, but it still felt…weird. Like she was suddenly supposed to be an adult.

In that moment Willow realized that she was. She had always been mature for her age, but until recently she had always been allowed to act like a kid. Even when they were fighting monsters and stopping the apocalypse, part of her could still act like a child because Giles had been there to guide them. Now Willow couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the man clean shaven and not reeking of booze.

No. Now it was time to grow up. She had Dawnie counting on her…and Tara and Anya and Xander and the whole world. Willow sank to her knees. She felt a pain in her chest and realized she was hyperventilating. She was having a panic attack. She _knew _she was having a panic attack. It didn't seem to matter.

_God! No, no, I can't do this. How am I supposed to do this? _Buffy_ couldn't do this and it was her job. Am I supposed to be Buffy now? I can't be Buffy, I'm Willow. Little babbling weak Willow. I can't do this, I so can't do this. _Willow was shaking now, her head held tightly between her hands as she tried to stop her thoughts. _This is crazy. We should just leave, take Tara and Dawnie and go. Doesn't matter where. Just gotta be safe. 'Cause we can't stay here. Too dangerous on the Hellmouth and Willow's not strong enough to save her. Them? Them. Willow can't do it…Willow can't…Willow…_

"Willow?"

Tara had finally gotten Dawn to at least nibble on half of a grilled cheese and pickle sandwich before the young girl had said she was tired and laid down on the couch to take a nap. Tara had made sure that Dawn had actually fallen asleep, even if it was fitfully, before going upstairs and check on Willow.

The decision to move into the Summers' house hadn't been a difficult one. Someone needed to look after Dawn and with Xander helping Anya to recover and Mr. Giles having retreated into his apartment, it made sense for it to be Tara and Willow. Even if someone else had been able, Tara would have volunteered anyway. She loved Dawn like a sister and Tara knew Willow felt the same way. Dawn had done so much to make Tara feel welcomed in their little family and Tara was going to repay that however she could.

Climbing the stairs, Tara thought of all the changes that had happened lately. In the last year she'd finally cut ties with her father, been accepted as a Scooby, learned that the girl she'd come to love was an ancient ball of energy, helped her lover through the loss of the closest mother she'd ever had, been attacked by a Hellgod, gone insane, gone un-insane, and watched one of her closest friends jump off of a tower to save the world.

Parts were great and others were horrific. Sometimes, when Willow and Dawn had finally fallen asleep, Tara would wonder if things would have been better if she'd gone with her father on her birthday. If she'd been gone, she wouldn't have been a burden on Willow and maybe they could have stopped Dawn from getting cut and Buffy wouldn't have died. Or, she'd think, maybe Glory would have gone for Dawn sooner if Tara hadn't been on the bench that day. Maybe none of it mattered. Maybe no matter what they did, Buffy was going to make that leap. Maybe it was her time.

Tara had done a lot of reading on Slayers since meeting Willow. The five or six years the Buffy had spent saving the world were a lot longer than most Slayers lasted. Not that it made her death any less painful knowing that she lived longer than she could have or that she'd been forced into a destiny with a very short expiration date. No, what she'd read had put being the Slayer in perspective and had made Tara so very glad to call Buffy her friend knowing the kind of life she lead and the person she was.

Tara noticed that although the door to the master bedroom was wide open, she couldn't see Willow. It had been so long since Willow had come down to collect boxes that she'd assumed her girlfriend had decided to take a nap, but Tara could see that the curtains weren't drawn. Evening light shone orange into the room and Tara suddenly felt uneasy. Taking a cautious step forward, she called, "Willow?"

Her heart ached at what she saw. Willow had herself pressed tightly into the corner where the mattress met the bed side table, her head pulled down between her knees with her hands clamped firmly over her ears. She was trembling.

Automatically Tara sunk to the floor and pulled Willow to her. She wrapped her arms around the shoulders of the other woman, ignoring how her newly set cast bumped against the leg of the table.

"Shh…Willow, darling," Tara soothed, "It'll be alright."

Willow continued trembling for several minutes before she lifted her head. Her green eyes where wide and wet with tears. "Tara?"

"Shh, sweetie, I'm here," Tara said softly. She tightened her hold on the redhead slightly.

"I can't do this," Willow sobbed into Tara's chest.

"Do what?" Tara asked. She ran her left hand up and down Willow's back to calm her.

"This," Willow cried unhelpfully, "I can't do this, I can't be Buffy."

Tara kissed the top of Willow's head. She'd never seen Willow break down like this before and was at a loss. She had no idea what to do. When she finally spoke, she did it simply.

"Just be Willow," she whispered, kissing her girlfriend's head again. It was the only thing she could do.


	24. Sunset

Tara rolled her shoulders and stretched. Satisfied with the resounding crack of her back she leaned her elbows onto the table and looked back down at her book. She'd been reading under the florescent lights in the Magic Box for hours and she was beginning to feel the strain. Tara was kind of amazed that after all these years of research, none of the Scobbies besides Giles needed glasses. Craning her neck to the side, she remembered that Xander and Anya had disappeared to do "inventory" in the basement over an hour ago and figured that it was just Willow who might need to see an optometrist.

Tara rubbed at her eyes and tried to refocus on the book in front of her. Xander had come across some sort of slime demon while on patrol the other day, which was usually pretty innocuous, but it wasn't any type he'd recognized. They'd decided it was better to be safe than sorry, hence the Scooby research party. Or what had been a Scooby research party.

Spike and Willow had left to go patrolling just after sunset leaving the rest to their books and charts. Across from Tara, Dawn was staring down at a textbook and occasionally writing in a spiral bound note book. Tara had thought it would be good for Dawn to get out of the house, even if it was only to go to the magic shop. The last couple of weeks had been hard on the teenager.

The last couple of _months_ had been hard on the teenager.

It was getting better, slowly, but Tara still wanted to keep an eye on the young brunette and Dawn had actually seemed pleased to be allowed to come out tonight even when Tara had told her that she would actually be doing her summer school work and not any demon research.

Dawn hadn't really interacted much with anyone since she and Tara had arrived. She'd barely acknowledged Giles's hand on her shoulder when she sat down at the center table, instead just pulling out her Discman and pulling on her head phones. She must have changed the batteries before they left earlier because Tara could still hear the music playing loudly. She didn't recognize the band, but could make out a lot of buzzing guitars and heavy drumming. Not the most academic choice, but Tara understood the need to block out unwanted thoughts. Her own small collection of eclectic albums was proof enough of that.

Tara pushed the open pink pastry box forward and into the teen's line of sight. Dawn gave her the ghost of a thankful smile which Tara returned only to have it fade slightly when she saw that Dawn was only picking at the old fashioned glazed donut. Neither she nor Willow had been eating well, Tara had noticed. It had gotten to the point where Tara could easily count Willow's ribs when she undressed before bed. The redhead was working herself to death trying to keep everything in order.

Pushing the donut box a little more insistently at Dawn, Tara was determined not to let that happen. She would do everything in her power to help Dawn and Willow and the others through this. It was the least she could do, after all, for family.


	25. Future

By default more than necessity Tara had become the designated cook in the house. Mostly this was because, although Willow was fine as if she had a recipe in front of her, she didn't have the finesse or creativity of a natural cook and Dawn…Dawn had too much creativity and a liberal definition of edible. So it became a common occurrence to wake up and find Tara preparing breakfast in the morning.

A proper breakfast, as she'd call it, complete with pancakes, fruit, and juice. Willow and Dawn, both being veterans of foraged cereal and milk mornings were understandably pleased with this new development.

It was on one of those mornings midsummer that Willow sat at the island admiring her girlfriend. Later they would head over to the Magic Box to discuss the night's patrol after dropping Dawn off at a friend's. But right then all Willow could see was Tara standing patiently at Dawn's shoulder, gently coaching the girl on hoe to flip pancakes. Judging by the growing pile of malformed burnt batter, she was having little success.

Smiling, Willow raised her glass to her lips. _God, she's gonna be a wonderful mother one day, _she thought suddenly, choking on her juice when the thought registered.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Tara asked, keeping one eye on Dawn and the flammable stove she was near.

"Ye-yeah. 'M fine." Willow waved her off before wiping the citrus liquid off her chin.

_Where the hell did that come from? _

They had never really talked about having kids before, not really, but Willow knew that Tara wanted children even if she never said anything. Part of her realized that one reason for her silence was that Tara had never thought she _could _have children. Not when she was so afraid that she might be something evil. Even so, Willow could see it. There was something about the way she'd light up whenever someone brought their child into the shop or the way that her voice lightened when she spoke about the things she used to do with her mother that made Willow realize that Tara wanted to share those things with her own child one day.

And Willow wanted to share that with Tara.

Willow had never really thought about having kids before, but now she could see it all clearly. A small girl with Tara's eyes and her smile or a little boy with dark blonde hair and a familiar half smile. Tara sitting under a tall tree nursing a tiny infant while big sister napped peacefully curled up comfortably against her mother's knee. Willow herself frantically buzzing around trying to get everything ready on the first day of school. The rest of the Scoobies would be there, too: Xander hauling in beautifully hand-carved toy chests, Anya being banned from ever telling bedtime stories again, and Dawn volunteering to baby-sit and letting them stay up way too late. Her thoughts were interrupted by a plate of pancakes being pushed towards her.

"Pancakes a la…me," Dawn said handing Willow a fork. "I couldn't get them round or funny shape, so their, um both," she explained gesturing at the oddly formed pancake.

Willow smiled, "Cool, hybrid pancakes."

Dawn returned the smile and turned back to the stove. Willow watched Dawn as she poured more batter into the pan before shifting her gaze to Tara. Tara was leaning slightly against the counter next to the sink, looking on at the scene before her with what could almost pass as a content smile on her face. She caught Willow staring at her and asked, "What?"

"I love you," Willow replied simply. She knew that she would do anything to make Tara happy, to build that future with her.

"I love you, too," Tara beamed.

_Yes_ Willow decided, _we can be happy._


	26. Thanks

Buffy was back.

They'd done it. _She'd _done it. Pulled Buffy out of some unspeakable hell dimension, rescuing her from untold evils…but at what cost? Willow wasn't completely ignorant of the consequences of magic. You had to give to get.

Willow rolled her neck under the steady stream of water of the shower. The warm water stung her various cuts and scrapes and although the long slashes on her arms had disappeared after the urn was broken, Willow could still feel each painful slice. She even thought she could see white scars where they had been, but that could just be a trick of the light. Even though she'd tried to keep the details vague for Tara and the others, Willow knew what she was getting herself into.

Give to get.

That much power couldn't be given to just anyone. You had to earn it. Prove yourself. Willow felt a surge of pride. The little, nerdy redheaded spaz had been given the power to cheat death. She was good enough for the gods to grant her request.

Buffy was back.

Willow knew she should be happy. This is what they wanted, what they needed, but she couldn't shake the image of Buffy right after. How scared she seemed. How lost. Like part of her was missing or something equally…bad. She looked hollow and Willow was suddenly worried that she'd messed something up. That she'd failed.

_No, no. Buffy's just in shock. Being pulled out of Hell will do that to a person. But Buffy said she was okay. She used exactly those words. She was okay._

Willow shook her head, ignoring the way her wet hair stuck oddly to her forehead. It was Buffy, of course she was okay. Or getting there. Buffy was one of the strongest people she knew. She'd be, not fine, but alright. She'd be okay. She had to be.

The water was beginning to cool when it suddenly hit Willow. Buffy was _back. _Back meaning she'd been gone, really gone. Some part of Willow realized that she had to have accepted that Buffy died, that she and Tara were raising Dawn, that it was up to a former demon, a vampire, a carpenter, and a couple witches to protect the world while an ex-librarian offered support where he could, but now it suddenly didn't seem real. Once Willow had started preparing the spell, she's convinced herself that Buffy was just somewhere else waiting to be rescued. That all Willow had to do was hold down the fort until she returned. But Buffy had come up from the grave – had dug herself out of her grave. She wasn't just somewhere else. She had been truly gone.

* * *

Tara could hear the shower running as she folded back the blankets on the bed. Her actions were automatic as she tried to reign in her thoughts to resemble some sort of order. They had done the impossible to day; they'd brought Buffy back. She knew that the ritual would be powerful, that it would be dangerous, but nothing could prepare her for the oppressive sense of wrongness that had nearly suffocated her and penetrated, she thought, her very soul. She shuddered.

The ritual itself went against everything she believed – no, _knew _ – about magic. You don't cast for selfish reasons and you sure as hell don't mess with the balance of life and death. And yet she had. Willingly. She had violated one of the most important sacraments of her faith because…because it seemed right?

Tara rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Moral crises gave her a headache.

When Willow had first suggested that they bring Buffy back, Tara had been adamantly against it. Buffy's death was a great loss and they should mourn her, but to try and change what happened, that went against nature. She had was upset when Willow brought up the possibility to Xander and Anya before they could discuss it further, but kept their arguments behind closed doors. It was better that way. It kept the others from questioning Willow's judgment. She was their leader now and had the plaque to prove it, and it wouldn't do well to shake their faith in her, not when it was only them standing between the evil of the Hellmouth and the world. Just as importantly, there was no reason to expose Dawn to that, not when her life was starting to come back together.

She'd relented eventually, of course. They needed a Slayer and with Faith…well, the one time she'd mentioned Faith the reaction she'd gotten from Willow and Xander was enough to table the idea. Still, Tara had done as much research as she could about what exactly would happen. There would be powerful forces at work, more powerful that Tara felt she should ever involve herself with. She justified it to herself, of course, that she wouldn't actually need to cast, only gather energy and focus on Buffy, but she couldn't fool herself for long. The magick was dark and it settled like a stone in her soul. It was a part of her now. A part of them all.

_But_ she thought_ if that's the price we pay to save Buffy, then it's worth it._

_It has to be._

Glancing down at the small clock on the bedside table, Tara noted that Willow had been in the shower for a really long time. Tara hoped she hadn't fallen asleep. Willow had already done that twice this summer and Tara was afraid that her girlfriend would one day actually manage to drown herself despite the weak water pressure.

Tara walked through the door of the bathroom and found Willow half slumped against the tile in the corner of the shower. Tara could see her shoulders shake with silent sobs, the only kind Willow would allow herself. Tara stepped over the ledge of the tub and without hesitation moved under the icy spray and pulled Willow to her. Reflexively Willow wrapped her arms tightly around Tara's waist, shivering more from emotional exhaustion than the cold. Tara reached up and tucked water logged hair out of Willow's face and pressed her lips to her girlfriend's forehead. She held them there and strengthened her hold on Willow. She'd lost count of how many times the two of them had comforted each other like this over the summer, taking turns as one would have a nightmare or the other would feel the weight of it all crash on their shoulders. They'd been each other's rock. Their safe place. Their home.

Eventually Willow shifted against Tara and the blonde stood up to help the other woman out of the tub. They changed for bed silently, never losing contact for more than a second, and settled under the covers.

A little over an hour later, Tara had fallen asleep tracing constellations on the freckles that spilled down from Willow's shoulder onto her collarbone. Tara's hand still rested on Willow's chest, her ring finger dipped the suprasternal notch. Willow lifted her head slightly to look down at the blonde, careful not to shift her so much that she'd wake up. They'd all been light sleepers as of late.

Despite this, Willow was pleased to hear the deep, rhythmic breathing coming from the woman next to her. Willow hardly noticed as she slowed her own breathing to match her lover's. It was something she had started doing shortly after waking up with Tara had become a regular thing. Willow felt herself relax with each breath. Tara had that effect on her. She made Willow feel safer and more comfortable than she'd ever felt in her entire life. Tara was everything good in her life and, Willow leaned over to kiss the crown of her head, she'd never been more thankful.


	27. Winter

Tara used to love winter. She loved the crisp air and the quiet. As a kid it had meant spending time with her mother baking or practicing magic. It was the only time Tara could remember being happy.

When she'd first moved to Sunnydale, she had missed the snow. The way that it would blanket the earth, surrounding everything in its soft, clean whiteness…she found it peaceful. There weren't really seasons in Sunnydale. It got cooler in the later months, but as long as you had a light jacket and an umbrella for the sporadic rain, you were set. Tara had missed the silhouettes of bare trees in gray morning light and the smell of logs burning in the fireplace. But mostly, she had missed the snow.

Now Tara missed Willow.

Leaving home, the first time, had been one of the hardest things Tara had even had to do. That town, her family, it was all she had ever known. But she knew that leaving was right. The people who were supposed to love and protect her hurt her instead. She couldn't stay. So she'd left.

She'd come to Sunnydale to live some sort of life she could be proud of. Even if she didn't find a way to exorcise her demon, she would have those years, those moments of her life that were hers and where she was safe.

And then she'd met Willow and became part of a family who loved and accepted her and she was genuinely happy for the first time in years. And then Willow, the one person she trusted most to love and protect her, hurt her. And no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't stay. So she'd left.

Leaving home, her real home, was even harder the second time. It wasn't just leaving a place this time, it was leaving behind the people she loved and the life she'd built for herself. It was no longer as simple as going from one place to another, she realized. Anywhere she was with Willow, whether it be her college dorm room or the Summers' house, it felt more like home to her than the house she was born in.

The small apartment just off campus was comfortable enough, though. Not all that roomy, but Tara had never been one to take up much space. Although her scholarship didn't cover the cost as the complex was not owned by the school, management had struck a deal so that students qualified for a discounted rate. The meager investments that Anya had helped her set up were more than enough to cover the rent.

But, of course, she got what she paid for which was why Tara stood looking up blankly at the display of shower heads. Rows upon rows of models hung before her, each boasting some new, better feature. She just wanted something that wouldn't make her feel like she was being water boarded every time she took a shower not something with "eight unique and refreshing spray patterns." Turning over the one she held in her hand, Tara figured it was good enough. It was the simplest design she could find and it claimed to be easy to install.

She walked down the aisle in the general direction of the check-out counter at the front of the store, stopping short when she recognized a familiar dark haired man looking through the store's selection of towel racks.

Xander.

Tara wondered if she should say something or try to walk past unnoticed. Before she could make a choice Xander turned and caught her eye. He looked around awkwardly before lifting one are.

"Hey," he waved.

Tara raised her hand in return. They had never seemed to get past that line in the sand that would make them friends. She'd always just been "Willow's girlfriend" to him and now she wasn't even that anymore.

"So, a little home improvement?" Xander asked nodding at the showerhead.

"Yes," Tara answered, "Um, you too?"

"Yeah, Ahn pulled ours off the other night," he admitted sheepishly and from the flush of his cheeks, Tara decided that she really didn't want to know the story behind that. Still, she smiled politely.

"She's doing a lot better," Xander said after a moment. He ran his hand over his hair before unnecessarily adding, "Willow."

"Oh? T-that's…that's good," Tara responded reflexively. Her fingers twisted over the plastic wrapping in her hand.

"And she misses you," he continued looking her in the eye.

"Xander," Tara warned. She looked down at the mangled packaging in her hands and sighed. She really didn't want to be having this conversation.

"No, I just mean she loves you. But I get it," Xander said quietly, "I mean I understand why you left."

Tara raised her head but didn't say anything.

"We could all see it," he continued, "the changes. But we just thought "it's Willow", you know? She of the level head. I've known her pretty much my entire life and she's always the responsible one."

"People change," Tara said simply.

Xander nodded. "I guess. I just never thought this much. It's like a part of me still can't believe it. I know what she did was bad, but…" He shrugged.

"What she did to me –!" Tara stopped and calmed herself. She wasn't going to talk about this. She couldn't talk about this. "Willow was wrong. She did some things she should have never done… She was wrong," she said instead.

"You don't think she knows that?" Xander exclaimed. He sighed and raised his hands in apology. "I'm sorry. Willow's my best friend and I just want her to be happy. And you make her happy. I've never seen her happier than when she was with you."

"But I want you to be happy, too, Tara." He said, surprising the blonde. "I know we were never the best of friends, but I _do_ consider you a friend. And I know you're just doing what you think is best…honestly I don't think she would have stopped if you hadn't left. It really forced her to look at what she was doing, you know?"

Tara looked up at him in shock before her expression softened. Xander really did wear his heart on his sleeve.

"Everything just seems so screwed up. And it's hard to see my friends hurting like this while I can't do anything about it. Willow made her bed and now has to lie in it, but it's still…"

"Hard?" Tara suggested. She gave him a small smile of understanding. Xander nodded. There was a beat of silence between them before Xander spoke again.

"So, I'll see you around?" he asked backing out of the aisle with his selection tucked under his arm.

Tara nodded even though it wasn't really a question. Not anymore.


	28. Thousand

There were a thousand reasons why she shouldn't be here.

Tara stood at the corner of Rovello drive tugging her jacket tightly against her body. She wasn't actually cold, but that didn't stop her shivering. It was weird how such a comfortable suburban street suddenly seemed so imposing. There was the house that had become more like her home than anywhere else and inside were the people she loved more than anything. And then there was Tara, standing outside on the street.

She really shouldn't be standing outside so late after sunset. Even though she was standing under the streetlight, she knew well enough what kind of evil lurked in the shadows. Somehow, though, Tara couldn't will her feet forward.

She'd made up her mind to forgive Willow even before they had met for coffee. She wasn't sure when exactly, but it might have even been after Buffy's party. Tara had seen how much Willow was trying, the restraint she was showing in not casting. Honestly, Tara wasn't sure how Willow was doing it. She never expected Willow to stop practicing entirely, she wasn't even sure if Willow _should_ stop practicing entirely, but what Tara did know was that the Willow she'd had coffee with today was the Willow she'd fallen in love with.

* * *

Willow laid on with her stomach against the bed. Her homework was spread out before her, a yellow legal pad just to the right for her to take notes on. She brought her pen up to her lips and held it there. The words below her seemed to shift and roll under her gaze. She was sure that she'd read this particular paragraph three times already, but she was having a hard time remembering what it was about. She was distracted. While her brain normally ran about a million tracks at the same time, tonight seemed to be pushing the limit.

Tara had agreed to get coffee with her, Anya was back, Dawn didn't feel as neglected, and Buffy was acting more like herself. Then again, Tara had left shortly after their awkward conversation with Anya, the nerd herd were spying on Buffy, and she'd inadvertently seen her best friend's ex-fiancé having sex with Spike of all people. Not to mention how upset Buffy had been at the revelation.

Why did it seem like for every inch of good the universe gave them, it piled on a yard of bad? Or at least troubling?

A familiar soft voice broke her musings

"Things fall apart. They fall so hard..."

"Tara...?" Willow said hesitantly. She sat up and looked over at the other woman. Tara actually standing there in her doorway was what she wanted most in the world, but she couldn't help but wonder what had brought the blonde to the house. The part of Willow that hoped Tara had come strictly for her was quashed by her feelings of self-doubt, guilt, and her experiences on the Hellmouth.

"You can't eve…put them back the way they were..." Tara went on sadly. She leaned the length of her body against the door frame wearily.

"Are you okay?" Willow asked concerned.

"I'm sorry, it's just... you know it takes time," Tara apologized, walking into the room. "You can't just have coffee and expect –"

"I know," Willow interrupted. She didn't know what to expect from their coffee date, but Willow was willing to take whatever Tara could offer her.

"There's so much to work through. Trust has to build again, on both sides..." Tara continued. She met Willow's eye and watched as the redhead lowered hers briefly and began fiddling with her skirt.

"You have to learn if you're even the same people you were, if you can fit in each other's lives," Tara said, making eye contact and willing the other woman to do the same.

"It's a long and important process and can we just skip it?" she asked. "Can you just be kissing me now?"

Willow's eyes widened in shock. _Did she…?_ She searched Tara's face for any sign of doubt and finding none, quickly got to her feet. She and Tara met halfway and found each other's lips desperately. Passionately. Arms wrapped around bodies instinctively, fingers found familiar holds, and lips and tongues connected in ways that were similar to but not exactly the same as how it had been. For all the familiarness and feelings that they'd been doing this their whole lives, there was a sense of newness. Rebuild. Reconstructing what had been with what now was and making something stronger.

Willow hadn't realized that Tara was leading her backwards until the back of her knees hit the mattress. Unwilling to break the kiss, Willow tugged Tara down with her as she fell onto the bed. She felt Tara giggle against her mouth and responded by deepening the kiss.

Slowly they broke apart, the burning in their lungs reminding them of their need for oxygen. Willow whimpered slightly at the lost contact, but was appeased momentarily when Tara nipped once more at her lips before getting off the bed and standing.

"Where are you going?" Willow asked breathlessly. She was unable to stop the hiccup in her heat at the thought of Tara leaving her again.

Tara smiled and closed the door. Leaning back over Willow, she said, "Absolutely nowhere."

Later, both Willow and Tara laid on their sides, Tara's arms wrapped loosely around Willow's waist. Willow's left hand was pressed against Tara's shoulder, her fingers tracing the paths of tiny beads of sweat. Gray light spilled in through the window although neither woman was awake of exactly how much time had passed. A lifetime could have past and Tara and Willow would have been none the wiser.

"I walk through the valley of the shadow of breast," Willow muttered as one particularly daring bead traveled along Tara's collar bone and dipped below.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that goes," Tara whispered as Willow's hand continued its explorations.

"You sure?" Willow smirked flirtatiously.

"Mmmm," Tara murmured, "Definitely don't remember that one being do sex-y."

"Really?" Willow questioned again looking up into Tara's eyes. She nodded slowly and Willow smirked again. " Cause the way I remember it, there were a couple of lines…"

"Thou hast anointed me with oil," Willow quoted with a quirked brow and nudging her leg between Tara's thighs, "my cup runneth over."

Tara started to moan until Willow muffled the sound with her own mouth. Willow kissed her slowly, leisurely, secure in the knowledge that she had the rest of her life to love this woman.


	29. Diamond

It was a privilege, she supposed, to be allowed to take the bus into Exeter.

Over the weeks, Willow had been slowly earning the trust of the woman in the coven. Well, not trust exactly, but the knowledge that she wasn't about to end the world or anything as drastic anytime soon. She could cut her own meat at meal times now, got to light her own candles during rituals, and, she kicked at the sidewalk, her sneakers had mysteriously returned next to the lace less brown boots that had replaced them when she'd arrived.

Willow couldn't blame them for their wariness. She had been much too numb when Giles had ushered onto the plane, their carry-ons slung over his shoulder with a grimace, for coherent thought. There had just been pain; all-consuming grief that swallowed her and prevented anything from but two words from penetrating her consciousness.

_She's gone._

Eventually that voice had quieted or deafened her to everything else or something else entirely. Whatever it had been, there was nothing but silence those first four days.

Emptiness.

On that fourth day, Willow had swung her legs over the side of her bed, looked down briefly at the clothes she couldn't remember changing into, and strung together her first coherent sentence in days.

_They're going to kill me._

She hadn't felt fear then or disgust. It was just a rational statement of facts, something she learned in cemeteries when she was barely sixteen years old; they killed evil things. And that was what Willow had become, an evil thing.

Willow had felt relief then. She wouldn't be going where Tara was. No, not after the things she'd done, she knew that, but she wouldn't have to be _here_ either. She was already dead; there could be no Willow without Tara so why drag things out?

But Giles and Ms. Harkness and the other women of the coven had other plans for her. They wanted to help her. Heal her. And Willow wasn't sure what to think about that.

So she didn't. The first couple of weeks, Willow simply complied. She'd go where she was told, eat what was put in front of her, meditate at the appropriate times, but she would always draw the line at any actual casting. Besides the grief and pain that she was drowning in, fear tugged at her ankles, pulling her down further.

It was hard enough to breathe as it was.

Giles had explained it to her, though, the reason that it was so important for Willow to keep practicing. She'd been right…evil, destructive, mega-bitch Willow had been right.

She _was _the magicks.

It was as much a part of her as her green eyes.

When she'd stopped, it had been like building a dam. She'd stopped the natural flow of her energy and it had built up. A lot. The tremors and night sweats had all been psychosomatic, the magick had never truly left her system and when she didn't cast, it had nowhere to go.

Until it did.

Willow shoved her hands into her jean's pockets, pulling her elbows close to her body. Even when she had tried to make things better, she had screwed up. And now she had all this power, power she didn't want or deserve, and there was no way for her to get rid of it. No way that Giles would allow.

She kicked at the ground again and something like a smile appeared on her face when she noticed the small hole starting at the toe.

Willow stopped suddenly.

She brought one hand up to her face and, besides the flush from the weather she was unused to, there was nothing there. No tears. One hundred thirty one days later and there were no tears. It was a milestone, wasn't it? Some important step in the healing process? To be able to think about her without crying?

Willow wasn't sure how she felt about that. The not crying thing was good, but that could lead to other things like moving on…or forgetting.

No. Tara was her forever. Her always. Nothing was going to change that.

And, she mused, Tara would want her to be happy. Eventually. Even if Willow didn't deserve it, Tara would want Willow happy.

And for Tara, Willow would do anything.


	30. Beginning

In the movies funerals were always dark and rainy and depressing. They'd used to talk about it, her and Xander. It was an over-used cliché, which is pretty redundant in its own right. But Willow had understood the symbolism. The rain became a physical manifestation of grief like the Heavens themselves were mourning with you.

Willow hoped that there had been sun when they buried Tara.

She hoped that there had been billowy clouds that morphed into strange shapes and birdsongs that brought hope to all those who had gathered. Tara had lived with so much darkness in her life and Willow hoped that the universe had decided to finally recognize the light she brought to the world. To Willow.

She knelt down on to the grass, ignoring the dampness spreading on the knees of her jeans. She reached forward and traced the carved name reverently as she did every time she came to visit. It was calming, that physical connection, even if only to a memory. She smiled sadly.

"Hey again," she said, "It's me."

Willow liked to think that Tara could hear her no matter where she was, but she made it a point to start each visit by addressing her directly. Willow like the routine of it. It's mundaneness. It was the closest she would ever get to having another conversation with her beloved.

She noticed the withering orchid by the gravestone. Dawn must have been by recently. Willow reached down and rearranged the flower so that it leaned against the marble. She wiped her palms against her denim clad thighs and started to speak again.

"Things have gotten pretty crazy around here lately. I guess you can see that. There are so many girls living in the house now, and Faith, and we can all sorta tell that it's near…whatever it is. This final battle or whatever's gonna happen, it's about to begin. Or end. I'm not sure."

Willow took a breath.

"I…Everything is getting so real now, not that it wasn't real before, but…it never seemed so hopeless before and…I'm scared. I want so much for you to be here with me, with us, just to make things less…less bad. Like you always did. You were this bright light shining through all the darkness we had to face and more than anything I just want to crawl into your arms and have you tell me everything's gonna be okay…"

Willow tipped her head backwards trying to gather herself before letting it fall forward again. A gentle breeze caressed her cheek and cooled the tears there. Willow smiled wistfully.

"Sorry. I, uh, can't stay long. I didn't exactly tell anyone where I was going and things have been pretty 'all hands on deck' as of late…but I wanted to see you. Today. Before things got too bad or before I…I just needed to visit today."

Willow brushed at her thighs again, feeling the pin pricks of disturbed blood flow.

"I tried to do some research about this…I know I wasn't the best student when it came to Wiccan ritual and stuff. Always about the spells…sorry. But I figured that you wouldn't mind this. I just…"

Willow stopped and took a deep breath.

"Mizmor l'David. Adonoy ro-i, lo echsar." She started to intone, her Hebrew getting caught in her throat, "Bin-ot desheh yarbitzayni, al may m'nuchot y'nahalayni…"

As Willow continued, she was unaware of the single bird singing along in a neighboring tree.


End file.
